Five Times Interlude: Aggression
by Traviosita9124
Summary: Fitz and Simmons argue about his stubbornness. Smut ensues.


So, my muse really wanted to write the "aggressive sex" scene mentioned in "Five Times." Guess I should have held off on calling it "done," eh?

For those who may think this is out of character for FitzSimmons, keep in mind that most adult relationships are not all rose petals and champagne, and just because the activity may not seem tender on the surface, it doesn't mean there isn't love there.

* * *

Fitz hunched over the main workbench, every inch of him tense, as he stared down at their joint creation.

The damn thing should have worked. It was absolutely perfect in theory, none of the machinery was malfunctioning, the parts all seemed to be in perfect working order… and so, he kept coming back to the same thought.

It should have fucking worked.

Each Dwarf had been loaded with a different scentless "odor." Each Retriever had been programed to follow a different one. Yet, despite each Dwarf spraying different targets, the Retrievers had been utterly useless, a third going after the correct target, another third trying to follow every target, and the final third just spinning in circles while the Centipede scientists and henchmen made their escape. It chills him for a moment to think of what could have happened had they made their way toward the van where he and Simmons had been hiding, but he quickly shakes it off when a new solution begins tickling the back of his brain.

It occurs to him that perhaps the dispersal pattern of the spray is too general and some targets may have been hit by more than one of the signals.

So, he shakes out his shoulders and gets back to work trying to correct the dispersal pattern.

* * *

She left after appetizers, claiming a headache, so she could get back to Fitz.

Simmons isn't surprised to find him still in the lab, his jumper and tie thrown over his usual chair as he hunches over the Dwarves. He doesn't even flinch at the soft hiss of the lab doors opening as she enters, and she's suddenly annoyed. This was their job, their puzzle to solve together, but for some reason he's decided to take it on himself. He should have waited for her.

"Have you even bothered to eat?" Simmons knows her voice is waspish, but can't bring herself to care. This was their work; he could have spared time to come eat with the team before they threw themselves back into the lab. Together. Like they should.

"No. I jus' though' this was more importan' ta focus on."

His tone is just as nasty, causing her to scowl at the back of his head in response.

"You could have spared an hour to come eat with the team. It's not likely they've stuck around to set up shop one last time on Michigan Avenue."

He slams down the screwdriver he'd been working with to whirl about and face her.

"Ev'ry secon' tha' Centipede is operational is a secon' they can use ta prepare ta attack us. So, no, I dinna think a dinner break was all tha' importan'."

* * *

There's an anger behind his eyes that she's never seen before, but instead of calming her, it stokes her own rage.

"You think we don't know that? You think that Coulson and May and Ward haven't stopped to think about how best to stop Centipede? They have, Fitz, and the world wouldn't have ended if you'd joined us for dinner!"

His chest is heaving and his muscles are taut as he stalks towards her. Her first instinct tells her to move away, that he's going to be more trouble than she wants at the moment, but she's rooted to the spot.

"D' ye know who they'll come for, Jemma?" Fitz moves closer to her, his voice rasping over the words. "They dinna need new tech, 'n' they dinna need a specialist o' a hacker," he was so close she could feel the heat radiating off him, and he was whispering directly in her ear. "They'll come for ye, the one who could fix any problem they ha'e wit' the extremis. An' since ye failed field assessment, ye won' be protectin' yourself, so stoppin' them firs' is the only solution. An' that falls t' me."

He halts in front of her, daring her to counter his argument. Thinking he's won, a smug smirk begins to creep onto his mouth, and suddenly, Simmons isn't sure what she's feeling. She was annoyed with him, and angry, too. Now, she's so turned on she thinks she could combust. Confused, she takes a step back and glares at him.

""Oh, that's right, Leo Fitz knows EVERYTHING. We should all stop and focus on whatever it is he's doing, because he's so bloody brilliant. Everything hinges on what he does."

"You certainly dinna ha'e a problem with tha' line o' thinkin' two nights ago."

* * *

He knows that the words are a mistake as soon as they're out of his mouth, but he's just riding his anger now, and it's too late to stop. He watches as her eyes widen in shock and then immediately narrow in irritation.

He's not even the least bit surprised when her right hand comes up, ready to connect with his left cheek, but he catches her wrist before contact could be made.

"Ye canna do tha', lass, wit'ou' some repercussions. Dinna yer mum ev'r teach ye no' ta hit?"

She's fuming and ready to bolt, so he slips his free arm around her waist and pulls her close. His action has made it possible for her to feel him against her, and the secret is out: an upset Jemma Simmons is something that Leo Fitz finds endlessly appealing. And, given the fact that he can smell her, he's fairly certain that she finds their current predicament a turn on, even if she'd never admit it. She tugs against his grasp faintly, trying to twist away from him. Instead of letting her go, he tightens his hold on her.

"Fitz, let me go. I mean it, let me—"

Instead, he slants his lips hers, his tongue plundering her mouth as she lets out a squeak of surprise against his lips.

* * *

They were fighting. At least, she thought that's what they'd been doing.

Apparently, it was foreplay.

Because the way he's kissing her, and the way he's pressed them together, tells her that he wants her. She feels the answering call in her own body as a sweet heat forms in her belly and settles low in her abdomen. The warmth spreads through her as she feels his hands drift to her bum, hauling her hips more firmly against his. Her hands move to thread through his curls of their own volition, angling his head so she can more easily meet each parry of his tongue.

Simmons had never imagined she'd enjoy being manhandled, but the aggression Fitz has displayed has awakened her own more primal urges.

She bites his lower lip, just to see what he'll do.

She doesn't expect the frisson of heat that ripples up her spine in response to his low groan.

* * *

She's somehow turned the tables on him, but he's not sure he minds.

Instead, he's impressed by how she's responded to him, and files it away that perhaps his Jemma would enjoy it if he was a bit… rougher… from time to time.

So he forces his mouth away from hers to kiss across her jaw and down her neck, hovering over her pulse point. His tongue darts over it, and he cannot help but grin when her breathy moan reaches his ears. The moan quickly becomes a keen when he nips at the sensitive skin there, and her hips arch into his erection more firmly.

He suddenly needs more, and spins them so she's pressed between him and the workbench. A quick brush of his arm clears the space behind her so he can lift her onto it; her thighs wrap around his waist seemingly of their own accord and she grinds herself firmly against him.

* * *

Simmons feels the smirk pull at her lips when Fitz groans heavily against her throat.

She begins working at the buttons on his shirt as she leans forward to whisper in his ear.

"Is there something you want, Leo?"

She loves the feel of his name as it slips off her tongue. He does, too, from the way his fingers clench against her thighs. He works his mouth across her collarbone and to the other side of the long column of her throat, opting to suckle at her there instead of answering her straight away. Simmons can imagine the mark he'll leave, a dark purple declaration that she's his. She should push him away, stop him from breaking all the capillaries in that tender area, but instead she slides her hands across the firm planes of chest, skimming his ribs before gripping his back in order to keep him there. She can feel her nails sink into his skin, knows she'll leave marks, but cannot bring herself to care.

The way Fitz growls against her, he doesn't seem to give a damn about it either.

"I wan' ye, naked 'n' wantin' beneath me."

All she can do is gasp as he yanks at the waistband of her trousers, the button pinging off the floor as he jerks the zipper down.

* * *

He's incredibly gratified by her reaction, and once again slants his mouth against her own as he slips his hands down the back of her trousers.

He lifts her against him so he can slide them, along with her knickers, down her legs but his progress is impeded by his position. He steps back slightly so he can shimmy them down, taking her shoes with them as they hit the floor. Knowing she'd be driven to distraction, he tugs off her socks, too, before returning to stand flush against her.

He brings his hands up to cup her jaw as he examines her, his heart pounding in his chest. She's beautiful, lips swollen from his kisses and pink tinging her cheeks, her breath coming out in light pants. He kisses her, softly at first before sliding his tongue along her bottom lip and increasing the pressure of the kiss. She responds by pushing his shirt from his shoulders, and it flutters to the floor, joining her own clothing before she undoes his jeans.

The shock of her hand on him causes him to jerk away from her lips. He grips the hem of her button up and tugs it over her head, not bothering to take it off properly. She'll yell at him later about stretched material and lost buttons, but for now he just wants to feel her skin against his. Cradling her back, he pulls her closer to the edge of the table.

"No teasin', Jemma. I's no' fair ta tease me."

* * *

His irises are so dark with passion they're nearly purple, and the realization that it's all for her floors Jemma yet again.

It doesn't matter how often she's seen that look on his face, it always inflames her past the point of reason. So, she gives him a feral grin as she jerks his jeans and boxers off his hips, and leans forward to whisper, "I'm not teasing you, Leo. It's not teasing if I plan on having you inside me," before grasping his turgid member yet again. The weight of him is heavy, warm, and familiar in her palm.

She's not sure where this saucy side of her has come from, but she likes the way he responds, his cock jumping in her grip. She gives him one firm stroke before spreading her knees a bit wider so he can step between them. Smart boy that he is, Leo does step closer, and the feeling of him pressing between her folds makes her shiver in delight. She wraps her arms about his neck, drawing his face towards her. She holds him there, lips a scant millimeter apart, but refuses to let him kiss her.

"Could you do that, Leo? Could you take me, here, in the lab, where anyone could see?"

* * *

Something breaks inside of him at her words.

It's Jemma's voice and Jemma's body and Jemma's scent all around him, but never in a million years would he have expected her to say something like that.

He finds that he loves it.

It shoots straight to his animal brain, and he forces his mouth against hers, desperate to make her feel half of what she's stirred up in his own being. He grips her bottom lip between his teeth and tugs at it, pleased with the moan he draws from deep within her chest. His grip reflexively tightens on her knees, pushing them aside so he can press into her further. He stops just short of pushing all the way into her.

* * *

He is so achingly close to where she wants him that all it would take to get him there is a simple roll of her hips.

Instead, she brushes her lips gently against him, teasing him a bit before speaking.

"Don't stop, Leo. Do it, before they come back." She presses her cheek against his jaw to better whisper in his ear. "That is, unless you want to give Ward and Coulson a free show."

He surges into her at that, and she knows her words have brushed up against his possessive streak. His pace is punishing, but he's still managing to hit a spot inside her that makes her eyes cross and causes moans to fall off her lips.

When he shifts his grip on her to slide one hand between them so he can stroke his thumb across her clit as he whispers what he's thinking in her ear, she's done for.

"Chris', Jemma, how d' ye always feel so good? I canna understan' how I managed before ye. Perfection is wha' ye are."

With that, her climax breaks over her, a sweet clench-and-release that causes her usually loud brain to go quiet. The world fades from her, and the only things that matter are Leo and the way he's made her feel.

* * *

Watching her break apart around him never gets old.

Her eyes go wide as her head falls back, her mouth a perfect "o" as he stills inside her to let her ride out the pleasure. He wishes he could stop time in this moment, because he means what he said, she is perfection, and he only feels that he manages to come close to it himself when he's with her. But it doesn't last, and when she comes back to him with a satisfied smile and a soft kiss, he resumes his previous pace. Jemma, knowing he's close, kisses down his jaw to suckle just above the pulse point in his neck.

It's all the impetus he needs, and he crushes her mouth to his as his own pleasure overtakes him.

The reality of the situation comes back in stages.

Her breath against his collar bone, warm and wet in sharp contrast to the cool air in the lab, his sweat making the small scratches on his back sting, and bruises from where he gripped her too firmly forming on her thighs.

He lightly runs a finger over them as he says, "I'm so sorry, Jem, I dinna mean ta leave these here."

She palms his neck, her thumb running over his pulse as she smiles at him before giving him a quick peck on the lips.

"It's okay. We'll both be covering certain areas for the next few days, I think."

He nods in satisfaction before pulling away to help her find her clothing.

* * *

She misses the feel of him as soon as he's left her, but they don't have the luxury of an empty Bus for much longer.

Quickly, they gather their clothes and straighten themselves out, replacing everything they'd knocked off the workbench before she goes to make them sandwiches for dinner and he sets about erasing and editing the security footage.

She sets his pastrami on rye next to him before sliding on to his lap to watch him work. His arms move around her, continuing what he'd been doing without missing a beat. It's moments like this that signal intimacy to her, and it brings a smile to her lips. A few more keystrokes and he's set the feed to show that they've been working in the lab for the past hour, not shagging each other's brains out. Their secret is safe, for now, so he gives her a quick kiss and wraps an arm around her waist before removing a flash drive and slipping it into his pocket.

Only then does he eat, falling on his food like a wolf.

Simmons affectionately cards her fingers through his curls as she watches him.

"Leo, promise me something."

He freezes in the act of chewing, and the result is comical, what with his wide eyes and stuffed cheeks. He swallows his food and brushes crumbs from his mouth before responding.

"Anythin', Jem."

"We're better working together, better as FitzSimmons instead of Fitz and Simmons. Promise me you won't leave me behind on another project. It's my work as much as it is yours."

The words hang between them. He seems to be considering how best to respond, which makes her nervous. It means he's holding something back, something that's confirmed when he looks away from her to stare at the table.

"I dinna wan' ta take the work from ye. I jus'… i's the only way I ha'e ta protec' ye. Ward an' May can go after ye if yer taken. I can only work ta prevent it from happenin' in the firs' place. Ye saw me durin' fiel' assessmen'. I was miserable a' han'-ta-han' combat."

* * *

He's embarrassed, admitting to the love of his life that he isn't sure he could defend her physically if he was called to do so. But he does what he can, and prays that it's enough.

Jemma, lovely, sweet Jemma, cradles his jaw in her palm and forces him to meet her eyes.

"We protect each other, Leo. We're FitzSimmons. It's what we do. It's what we'll always do."

She kisses him again, sealing the promise she's just made, and he finds himself considering the possibility of pulling her into his bunk for round two when he hears the gears begin to turn on the cargo bay door. The rest of the team has returned.

With a soft sigh, he shifts her off his lap, grabs his plate, brushes crumbs off the glass surface of the table, and leads them both out of the command center and into the lounge.

When the team comes in, all they see are Fitz and Simmons, sharing a sandwich and arguing about which board game to play that evening, not a couple deeply in love.

FitzSimmons decide they like it best that way.

* * *

Fin.


End file.
